Those oft are stratagems which errors seem Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.

Homer excels all the inventors of other arts in this: that he has swallowed up the honor of those who succeeded him.

Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul, And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.

Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.

Not always actions show the man; we find who does a kindness is not therefore kind.

A saint in crape is twice a saint in lawn.

Chaos of thought and passion, all confused; Still by himself abused or disabused; Created half to rise, and half to fall; Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all; Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled,- The glory, jest, and riddle of the world.